The Clown Trap
by The-Talking-Peanut
Summary: After falling off a roof when being chased by Batman, Joker gets a severe case of deja-vu, only something's been changed...Warning: SLASH! Swearing, a little dialog and scene copy from TDK but an alternate version, teeny bit of fluff at the end.


A/N: The title for this is a play on words with the movie 'The Parent Trap'. Couldn't think of a title, so just threw that one out there. So yeah. Oh, and the beginning is a little lame. Couldn't figure how to start it, cuz I had a major brain fart on it. So sorry in advance. Also, not sure if I will continue this or just leave it as a one shot, so I didn't entitle it as 'complete'. I wrote and sent it on March 13th and have still not continued it in any way. Got some great responses from the other site I sent it to, and I guess I'm just wondering how it will do here.

And don't worry, I'm still going to update 'Play a Game', 'Joker's Kitten', and finally start to finish the next part for 'Poison from a Scarecrow'. I only have 50 or so words on it right now, and it's going to probably stay that way for a bit more cuz I'll be very busy until November. And first I'd like to finish JK and before that finish this one-shot story I'm writing now. So, yeah. Sorry and enjoy. PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU LIKED THIS ONE. I love comments. ^w^

(Can't figure out how to 'correctly' spell deja-vu, so it's as is.)

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It all started from running around on rooftops.

The buildings and empty streets glistening in the moonlight from rain left over from Gotham's downpour a few hours ago. Still-life everywhere causing a stunning picturesque of a peaceful city that was anything but.

Heavy footfalls splashing noisily through puddles, followed by panting were the only sounds greeted this fateful night.

And a laugh. A crazed laugh that only seemed to get louder with every exhausted leap and bound he made to just keep out of reach from the other. Purple coat flapping behind him, the Joker had no intention of stopping or making a getaway this time. He was just enjoying the time he and Batman were spending together. Although it was more than clear the other was not sharing in the enthusiasm of the chase.

And that's all it was. A chase. The usual cat and mouse routine which they had become accustomed to doing with one another. The same reasons would set it off: the Joker would do something reckless to get Batman's attention, a chase would ensue, and when they got close enough a fighting dance would break out and it all ended up with the Clown being locked away _not-so_ good and tight until he would break out and this little 'charade' would repeat itself. Time, after time, after _time_.

But this time the Joker had no intention of being caught. At least, not so quickly. He would have to make it a little more difficult for the Bat to catch him. Make it more interesting in fear that the caped crusader would get tired of him and no longer play these games and he'll find a new playmate.

Being night creatures and seeming gods of this city they knew their way around in the dark blindfolded. So attempting to keep it exciting night after night was becoming a new challenge that the Clown was enjoying to its fullest. While he was pushing himself further than he should be to get enough momentum to jump to another rooftop safely, he would think of the different ways to keep the Batman intrigued. Probably something that would have to do with finding a stray kid and throwing him off a high building then taking off and seeing how long it takes the Bat to realize the kid was already dead to begin with. Yeah. Yeah that would work. He liked that one.

Little random, spur of the moment tests he reveled in springing up on the Bat. It was worth the look on his face everytime. Sending waves upon waves of pleasure just knowing how angered he was making his black beauty feel was priceless. It was worth risking his new found freedom from Arkham just to see.

At the thought of it he couldn't stand it anymore and risked looking behind his shoulder to see how the Bat was fairing. He let out a groan and nearly tripped over his own feet at the sight behind him.

Black cape flowing like a swirled nightmare behind his back, whipping around his armor as if testing when it was the right time to consume him within their embrace. Anger distorting his features into a beast ready for the kill. Eyes blazing with a darkness only told in fairytales as a warning to children that this will come after them if they should misbehave. Heavy panting mixed with grunts of fatigue at the endless effort to keep up with this menace. Needing to stop and catch his breath severely but not doing so, because the other one would then take that advantage which is something he can never have. Not if Batman can help it. Completely forgetting to use any of his fun little toys because he was so overtaken with just catching the madman and keeping him under control.

And this was all for _him_. All this effort just for the Clown, and _no one_ else.

Contrary to what most people believe, the Joker would actually become a silent observer when Batman would fight another criminal, not getting himself involved at all. It was simply an obsession to see how the Dark Knight would interact with the other wannabe villains that weren't himself. He had done this silent stalking for quite some time since the first time Batman had him locked away, and he always ended with the same conclusion. Which was simply:

None of the other criminals would get the same reaction or attention from the Bat that he had towards the Joker. That he would _save_ for the Joker, and him alone. It always sent an exhilaration of want through his entire being from the first moment he came to the conclusion. The Bat was his, and apparently the feeling was mutual. It gave him purpose in life to know that Batman didn't consider him just like any other nemesis he came across. That he was more of a challenge, and more of an effort to stop and/or control. To put it plainly; for the first time in his life, someone made him feel worth it. Whatever _that_ was. It made him want to express his more artistic side and do something extra special for Batman just to show his appreciation.

Watching his Batsy chase after him was a sheer thrill. He couldn't get that delicious _feeling_ from anything else he would try to compensate with when Batman wasn't around _for him_. He lived for this. He _needed_ this. Needed this special attention he got from the one thing he almost cared more for than himself. It was his only reason to continue to do whatever he wanted to do. Whenever he wanted to do it. However he wanted it done, and with whomever. In hopes that someday, the Bat would finally understand that the only reason he does any of it now is just to be with him, and Batman would return the feelings. Although he knew that was a big N-O. Still, can't blame a Clown for trying.

The Joker was captivated and held breathless at his Batman following him everywhere. He couldn't tear his eyes off of the dark one, his mind swirling with hundreds of scenarios of various things that ranged from childlike innocence to the flat out obscene. _Always including the one that had to do with soft cheese, because that one was his favorite_. But his goofy smile switched to confusion when he saw Batman's appearance grow more desperate, an arm outstretched to him and shouting something the Joker couldn't understand for his mind was still focused on his twisted fantasies. It wasn't until his footing no longer made contact on solid ground that he understood what the Batman was trying to tell him.

He had become so focused on his beautiful Bat behind him, that he forgot he was still blindly running full speed on a rooftop which would eventually run out of platform. And it did. And he hadn't stopped, until it was too late.

He was falling to the ground below, head first.

The Joker didn't even get a chance to vocalize his displeasure _or_ joy at the new problem he walked himself into. He never saw what Batman did, for his attention was squarely on the ground rushing a lot faster to him then he wanted. But he did hear a whirring then a click that usually came when the Bat used his grappling hook. Or something like that.

He didn't remember feeling himself hit the ground at all. However, he didn't feel the strong arms of the Batman's wrap themselves safely around his waist, either. _If that even happened_. Could of just been his imagination getting in the way again. He didn't know, he couldn't tell. All he became aware of was that at the last moment, everything seemed to _slow down_. A blinding white light encompassed all around him, and he suddenly felt himself being yanked roughly backwards. The wind was forced out of him, to the equivalent of taking in a very steep drop in a waterslide and going faster. He couldn't scream, no sound would escape him. His breath was sucked out of his lungs as he tried to stick his arms out to stop himself. But the sheer G-force of it was keeping him immobile. What was _happening_ to him? What in the world was _going on_? His mind was racing then was wiped blank, and he felt as if his skin was being stretched and pulled off. Everything was such a painful bright light when all of a sudden, he consciously became aware that his feet touched flat ground, and he heard grumbling all around him growing louder and more audible. Eventually he could tell that the other sound was that of a crowd mingling mixed with instrumental music. He was pretty sure he was now standing among a group of people, and when his vision slowly came back to him, he would be able to confirm it. First they were just formless sparkles. But once they took shape he saw they were all finely dressed higher ups. He felt arms grab a hold of him when everything briefly went out of focus again. He blinked a few times and shook his head to clear it and get his mind thinking again. Shrugging out and away from whomever was touching him, he looked around to see where the hell he was.

When his mind eventually caught up, his first reaction was why and how did he get here, _wherever here was_, and his second was _why_ was no one screaming and running away from him? Why were they instead looking at him concerned and reaching out a hand for what he only could assume was for support? He shied away from the help, treating it as if he would get burned for being touched by them. Still moving, the Joker wandered around lazily and observed the scene he was now a part of.

It was clearly a party of some sort, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves in one way or the other. He quickly scanned everyone, searching faces for a fear of his presence, a twitch of panic about him being in the room with them, but nobody seemed to be aware he was even there. It wasn't that they didn't notice him either. No, some people when they passed in front of him or brushed by to get passed him to somewhere else, would all look him straight in the eyes, and smile. Some would even give him a kindly 'hello.' _Very strange_.

It was, to say the least, disconcerting for the Joker to be treated as if he was one of the 'gang' and not the fabulous individual he was. He frowned and looked down at himself to see what was wrong with him. He jumped at what he saw. He wasn't in the clothes he remembered wearing on the rooftop just a few seconds ago.

He examined his new threads with keen fascination. _Running his hands absent-mindedly over his sleeves_. He was now wearing a silky shirt with a few swirls of sparkles for flare and the first three buttons undone. _He fingered each button and open hole_. Top of the line pants seeming to be made of the same quality as the shirt, only heavier and fastened with a leather belt. _He pet down the sides of his legs to smooth the already wrinkle-free look_. Finely tailored shoes that were completely spotless and dent-free. _He tapped them on the floor with his toes just to here them click and giggled_. But the most interesting part of all of it was that it was all the same color. _How unbelievably dull_. A beautiful dark blueish-green that flattered him to no ends was the chosen color that framed his body. In his own way, the Joker started to grope at himself just to feel the way the fabric felt against his skin. It was rather nice, to say the least. Not his first choice, but still quite enjoyable. _Although it could use a few shades lighter or different color in some spots_.

Upon further examination of himself he noticed that his nails were freshly manicured, and what skin he could see on his chest was all scar free. He even seemed to have a nice tan to compliment everything else. He started to touch these places as well, feeling what it was like to have immaculate skin and perfect nails for once. He knows once upon a time he had been this 'virgin', but he can't for the life of him remember when or where. Never cared to think of the past. Just the here and now. And the here and now was starting to become a bit _uneasy_. As easy as it was for him to become enthralled with this new 'texture', he didn't like it. Not. One. _Bit_. It was completely alien to him, he started to feel like he wasn't himself anymore. Like he was shoved into someone else's boring body, and they got his masterpiece work of art. He growled in his throat at the embarrassment of being seen looking so 'incomplete' and 'naked'. He looked up to see if anyone thought it was as disgusting as he did. Surely there was _someone_ in agreement?

_Apparently, they find this appearance 'pleasurable'. Well fuck you._ He thought angrily to himself when it seemed not another living soul in this room was looking at him with distaste. He wanted to rip it all off and shove it down the next person's throat who gave him a roving eye followed by a wink until they choked to death. _Painfully_. Which was happening quite often.

But he didn't, and instead focused his attention back to himself and began to scratch at his arms as if ants were crawling all over him. But then he slowed down, when it dawned on him that this place and all these faces seemed familiar, like a severe case of deja-vu. He had been among these people before, in this same building too. But just when he started to remember, a loud gunshot snapped his and everyone else's attention to the direction of the elevators. Some of the ones closest to the bang cried out and scurried as far away as possible to the other side of the room.

"Goood _eve_ning, ladies and _gentle_-men!"

The Joker's eyes widened and felt his whole posture slump in on itself as he saw a female clown saunter into the middle of the room with a sawed-off shotgun in hand. Dressed in a deep purple suit and micro skirt, corset tight green vest over a blue hexagon patterned bra top showing off plenty of cleavage. Thigh-highed multicolored socks with garter belts attached to the skirt. Chunky heeled gray shoes that strapped around the ankle and curled just a tad at the toe. Light green suspenders peek-a-booing out from under her jacket and coat, delicate leather purple gloves, finely applied yet grotesque white face and charcoal eyes, with red lipstick positioned accordingly over her lips and visibly scarred cheeks into a permanent ghastly smile. And with lazily tinted long green hair done up in a messy do that was obviously held together with probably two hairpins.

The Joker wanted to hurl at the sight of this disgusting, _cheap_ copy. What a pitiful excuse for a fan.

"_We_ are tonight's enter_tain_ment!"

Well, now _that_ really pissed him off. This little copy-cat crack whore was not only attempting to take a new version of his outfit and skimping it to no avail, but was stealing his exact dialogue too! The Joker stood there stock still, clenching his hands into fists. He was trembling with rage at the idea that someone would _dare_ to impersonate him in such a blatant display of fangirl obsession. I mean, _who_ does she think she is!?

But that's when it hit him. When this 'femme-clown' picked up a champagne glass--splashing it's contents _everywhere_-- from a frightened woman's hand who was standing by a white linen table where all the other glasses of champagne were and gulping down whatever was left, the Joker got a good look at her now that she was closer to where he stood. He relaxed a tiny bit when he studied her face, and realized--

He _knew_ her. He had threatened this person before.

_This is...isn't that Harvey's pooky-bear? Yes! Yeah, that's Ra...oh hang a second, I know this one...Ra...chel? Ra-Ra__**chel! Rachel!**__ That's it!_

The Joker suddenly felt drained of all blood. His brow furrowed as he remembered a very similar person, only being quite dead.

_Wait a minute. Didn't I kill you? You should be rotting hamburger meat by now, not someone standing around in my get up! What the hell--did I take something?_

"I only have one question: _Where is_ Har_vey_ Den_**T**_?"

The Joker looked desperately around the room for some sort of answer, as if this was a big practical joke and all of a sudden Schiff and all the rest of his soon-to-be _late_ henchmen are going to jump out and say 'surprise!' or some stupid thing like that. This wasn't funny, and he was going to make sure no one thought it was _either_.

But all his searching stopped when he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the windows and did a double-take. Without a second thought, he moved closer to get a better look at himself, or what was _left_ of him.

His hair was healthy, clean, _blonde_, fluffy and wavy. The top layer of it was pulled back into a ponytail, while the rest of it just hung stylishly above his shoulders. His skin was spotless and smooth. But that wasn't the worst of it. Oh no. What was really freaking him out was the fact that _his scars were gone_. Just flat out _gone_. Disappeared.

He began to knead his face in hopes that there was just fake skin or latex covered over them. But no. Nothing. He licked the insides of his cheeks and felt..._smooth surface_. It was as if they were _never there_. Like that his father-or himself-or the barber-**or whomever** never stuck that damn knife-hanger-scissors-**whatever** in his mouth and pulled-yanked-ripped-**however**. He felt sick, nauseous. _How_ could this have happened? _How_ could his precious, beautiful scars just simply vanish!? Who would do this to him? Who--

"You know, you remind me of my father..."

His head snapped in _her_ direction. At _her_ face. _Her_ lips. _She took them. That bitch stole my goddamn __**scars!**_

"I **hated** my father."

Without thinking and letting his rage take over, the Joker stormed over to where _she_ was, wildly shaking his fingers at her and planting himself firmly in the middle of the room.

"Now hang on a second! Who do you think you are--how **dare** you! _They're not yours, give them back!_"

Well, aside from the fact _nobody_ knew what he was talking about and looked at him completely lost (and shocked that he was either brave enough or crazy enough to talk back to this psycho), he had now gained the full and complete attention from the 'Rachel-Clown'. She sauntered out towards him, fussing with her hair trying to fix herself up to look nice for her new 'prey'.

"Well, hel_looo hand_some." She smacked her lips hungrily at him. "_You_ must be Harvey's Squeeze-ah."

"What?" The Joker mumbled to himself, now completely taken back. _Wait, __**Harvey?**_ He almost gagged at the accusation. _Are you serious? Harvey's dead. But, __**you're**__ dead too, so...__**what's going on!?**_

"And you _are hand_some." Rachel-Clown began to eye-rape him as she started to circle around _too_ close to where he stood. He hated it, but he actually started to feel butterflies growing in his stomach the closer she came. He followed her with his eyes, not trusting her _at all_ when she was behind his back. He couldn't take his eyes off those scars. _His_ scars. The ones she so blatantly took away from him.

She paused a moment, then slightly lunged her head towards his own and he flinched away, immediately feeling ashamed for doing so afterwards. She then took two quick steps to get back to facing him head-on, now closer than before. The whole time sucking on her scars from the inside. Rachel-Clown observed the look Joker was giving her, noticing that he had tensed up now that she was in his personal bubble, and that he wasn't staring at her pretty blue eyes.

"You look _ner_vous. Is it the _scars_? Wanna know how I got them? Come _'ere_."

It turned into a power struggle when Rachel-Clown was grabbing his face, blade in hand, and the Joker was trying to push her away, not wanting to be _touched_ by her _filthy_ hands. And since _when_ did he let _anyone_ try and dominate him besides the Batman?

"_Ahh, da-da-da-da-da_. Hey, _look at me_..." Amazed at how quickly it ended and how easily he lost that fight, Rachel-Clown rendered Joker's arms immobile by twisting them in such a way that she was still able to get one hand behind his head and the other one to his mouth, knife resting against his clean cheek. His eyes blazed with a mixture of fear and frustrated anger. _How_ could he let this happen, and by a _dead girl_ no less! He felt so vulnerable, so _afraid_ of her, that he just couldn't get his mind to think of the best way to weasel out and take her down.

"So I had a hus_band_. _Hand_some, like _you_. Who tells me I _worry_ too much. Who says I need to _smile_ more..."

_I don't need to hear this story--I __**know**__ this story! It's __**my**__ story, and you're __**ruining it!**_

The Joker tried to free himself from her grasp, wriggling his arms as best he could. For being such a wispy thing of a girl, she was surprisingly strong. It only succeeded in her tightening her grip on him, which was the total opposite effect he wanted to achieve. He didn't want to hear this damn story. He knew how it went-how it ended. Always the same. But that didn't mean someone could just take it and bend it to suit their frivolous needs. This story was about a _husband_ who was left by his _wife_. NOT the other way around.

He stopped paying attention to the story and began to study the scars again. Same shape, same texture. Different face. It was unnerving to be facing someone who now was wearing everything you're use to, and you have nothing in return. The very sight of her was making him want to become sick all over the place. He kept feeling a tight clenching in the pit of his stomach each time Rachel-Clown pulled his face in closer. Oh god, her breath could kill a healthy Ox. Joker's face went sour upon breathing in a big whiff of it and tried to turn his head away. But she simply yanked it back hard to face her, and pulled him in _even closer_ so he was definitely looking at her, and nowhere else. She grabbed his chin firmly, knife still uncomfortably close to his new baby-smooth skin.

He wanted to scream at her. To fling himself as far away from her decrepit hands and putrid breath as humanly possible. Joker struggled one last time, before becoming dangerously calm in her arms. A thought crossed his mind. Is this...was this how _she_ felt when he was doing it to her? Is this what it's like when he holds an innocent victim in his hands? He knew the godly power he felt from the giving end, but the _receiving_ end was not something he had ever experienced before. But if he had, he doesn't remember. This...this was _awful_. He felt so completely helpless and scared for his life. He's _never_ felt that from anyone, and he didn't like it. He didn't _want_ it. Was this what she--

"_Now_ I see the _funny_ side! _Now_, I'm always _smiling!_"

The Joker shook his head and erased all those thoughts from his mind. _It's not the same._ He thought to himself. _Not the goddamn same at all!_ Joker bared his now perfectly white and healthy teeth at her when she raised her hands in the air at the tale-end of the story. He threw back his arm and slugged her so hard in the gut she keeled over and took a few steps back. _Laughing_ the whole time. He didn't care if it was wrong to hit a girl, since when was _that_ going to stop him? Joker was seething at her. This was _not_ funny. _She_ was not funny. Not at all. He clenched his already tight fists and prepared himself for a fight, ready to give her the ass-whooping of her life.

Rachel-Clown recovered herself quickly and gave him a bemused smile. She licked the corners of her mouth as a hungry look overtook her features--she was clearly enjoying him. She began to walk back up to him pointing the knife at him and shaking it.

"A _little_ bit of fight in you! I _like_ that."

"Then you're going to love me."

Suddenly, without warning, a dark shape came in between the two Clowns and socked the female one back hard. It took the Joker just a moment to realize who it was that crashed the party.

"Bats...!"

All his anger and tension drained out of him when he saw the caped crusader pummel Rachel-Clown and her brain dead lackeys. It sent an all new excitement through him to see his Batsy again so soon. He even for a brief moment thought they were back on the rooftops, until he noticed _Batsy_ wasn't paying any attention to _him_. Oh sure, he was doing this to protect him from the big bad _Rachel_, (which don't get him wrong, he flushed pink at the idea) but he was playing with _her_, not _him_. He didn't even check to see if he was all right! 'Course he _was_, but that's beside the point.

What really rattled the Joker worse than anything, was that he recognized that same energy, that same _passion_ that Batman saved solely for fighting _himself_, but was now using it on someone other than him. A cheap copy, no less.

Well, _that_ just set him off. _That_ was the last straw in his opinion. Not only was this clearly an unfair fight (the henchmen were holding him down as Rachel-Clown stomped her foot down and a blade popped out, bubbling with energy she slammed it into the Batman's chest), but he felt as if he was being cheated on, and right in front of him!

He didn't want to be excluded from the battle--and _certainly_ didn't want _Rachel_ to get all the attention--so he decided to help his Bat out. He scanned the room quickly for a weapon to use, and eventually ended up running to where the champagne was and grabbed an unused bottle from the table. He began wailing it on every single one of the henchmen who were trying to get up to have a second go at the Bat. On the last one, he accidentally hit the guy too hard and the bottle busted open over his head. Knocked him out flat of course, and the Joker laughed his delight at what he'd done.

Unfortunately, this distracted him from everything else, and so he didn't dodge out of the way when he felt arms pulling him backwards towards a window. He struggled a bit but ceased when he felt a barrel of a gun prop itself under his chin. He didn't need anyone to tell him who had a hold of him; the soft giggle in his ear and the fowl odor that wafted back to his nostrils explained _everything_. He cursed himself for forgetting about this little part. About remembering that he had taken Rachel to the window once upon a time and--_oh shit_.

This new scenario had gotten Batman's full attention. _How sweet! He really does care!_

"Put the gun **down," **the Batman threatened. It sent a shiver down Joker's spine to hear him say it like that. Rachel-Clown must have felt it, because she tightened her grip on him just a little more.

"Sure! You just take off your _mask_, and show us all who you _rea_lly are..." She waved the gun around with a flourished gesture as she spoke it. Joker tightened up at the suggestion and couldn't stop himself from letting the fear in his eyes show. _No! No don't! I don't want to see! Please don't do it!_

A shot rang out, followed by the sound of shattered glass. The Joker knew what was coming next even before he felt himself being twirled around and now basically hanging outside the open window by a gloved hand to his forearm. His heart was racing, he was really bothered by all of this and he hated himself for it. He turned is head down and looked out the window. It really was a steep drop. He had forgotten just how high up this place was. The wind tussled his hair, playing with him before they could have him completely.

"Let him go."

The Joker snapped his head back and stared gaping at Batman incredulously.

"You've got to be _**fucking**__ kidding me!" He walked into that one again?!_

Both the Batman _and_ the Rachel-Clown stared back at him, shocked. There was a few awkward moments where they just stayed like this. Quite evidently, _nobody_ expected the other to say what they did.

But soon, as _he_ would've done, Rachel-Clown recovered first and simply beamed at him with a malicious smile and a twinkle in her eye. He could feel her trembling through the hold she had on him. That wasn't comforting _at all_.

"_Ahh_, you picked up on that too, _hm?_ I'm so _glad_ the joke wasn't just, uh, _caught_ by me! _You're_ something _else_!" She turned back to address Batman, who still looked a little stunned, but more worried now.

"And _youuu_, have a _very_ poor choice of words..."

With that being said, Rachel-Clown laughed hysterically, and let the Joker _go_. He fell backwards onto a sloping roof and began to tumble down, screaming as he did so. He looked up when he heard the slump of another body on the roof and saw it was Batman sliding on his front, reaching out to him. Joker threw his arms out in front, in hopes that Batman could grab him. But he once again ran out of roof, and began to free fall down to the street below. He couldn't stop himself from screaming, nor did he want to. He flailed his arms and legs around and succeeded in spinning himself in mid air. The wind was whipping at him painfully as he couldn't take his eyes off his final destination. Suddenly he felt arms wrap themselves around him, pulling him close. He closed his eyes tight and instinctively grabbed on to whatever held him in hopes that would stop them from plummeting to the ground. He felt the other form flip and turn them around, felt a soft material enclose itself around him, then--

_**CRASH.**_

A huge shockwave of pain, sound and reality hit him at once. Then all was still. Joker felt a hand press to the side of his face then move down to his shoulder, shaking him lightly.

"Jack? Jack, are you alright? _Speak to me. Jack?_"

_Who the hell is 'Jack'?_ The Joker pondered to himself. The voice was so familiar, and when he realized that it was addressed to _him_, he opened his eyes slowly and looked into the very concerned, _very close_ face of Batman. He smelled _really_ nice.

"_Bats_...oh yeah, I'm fine. _I think_..."

He reached a hand up to rub his forehead then _dared_ to rest it on the chest plate of the Bat's armor. When his hand wasn't inflicted with pain or swatted away but just left there, he decided to go a little further with it and trace the outlines of some of the pieces with his fingertips.

"We should do this _again_ sometime." The Joker looked up into Batman's eyes and winked. To his utter astonishment, the Batman _smiled_ and felt himself be pulled in closer. Well, _there_ was something he did _not_ expect. _Ever_. Not knowing how to deal with it, the Joker changed the subject but didn't think about what to say. Just wanted to say _something_.

"Uh, is Harvey okay?" _What the fu--what?! __**Harvey!?**__ Since when do I care about his well being!?_

"He's safe."

"Huh? Oh, uh, good. Good." _Well that was awkward._

Joker knew he _had_ to get out of here. Had to get away. There was something so incredibly wrong with this whole scenario, he couldn't even _begin_ to describe. Somehow, through some magical farting elf dust, he had switched places with Rachel. And so far, everything that she went through before he was now going through. This was _bad_. Rachel got to be his wonderful, funny self and he gets stuck with Harvey. Great. Just great. The fuzzy end of the lollipop _again. Well, it's better than Arkham._

Joker could feel those butterflies grow in his stomach again when he realized the fate he had given Rachel. He didn't know how long he was going to be stuck here, but if he continued to go through whatever Rachel went through, then eventually..._oh shit me._

But as severe as this all seemed, and the urgency in him needing to get back to the way things were, Joker couldn't help but melt in the Batman's possessive embrace as he began to rub his back. He sighed and snuggled up closer to him, nuzzling his face into Batman's neck. This was...nice. This is what he wanted from his Batsy all along. Maybe it was a little gentler than he was _imagining_, but any contact was good contact.

Joker began to wonder how long he could stay in this place to enjoy all the little delights he could never get as himself before it got to the _big explosion_. He hoped long.

Maybe he could even avoid that final stage since he knows how it will be planned out. _Just so long as she doesn't try and change anymore of my stuff. Bitch._

Who knows? Maybe it was a sign to start over, and right a wrong?

Maybe not.


End file.
